


All I've Ever Done is Hide

by Ava_Dakedavra



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Babysitting, Blanket Forts, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance, Snow Day, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29531520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ava_Dakedavra/pseuds/Ava_Dakedavra
Summary: Hermione has never been one to celebrate Valentine's Day, even after she started dating Percy. But babysitting all of the Weasley children's offspring? Not what she'd had planned.
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/Fred Weasley, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, George Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Percy Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ron Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	All I've Ever Done is Hide

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware it's nearly a week after Valentine's Day, but I am not particularly a fan of the holiday, so I find myself not really caring. And this is my first time writing this pairing, but I rather enjoyed it, so perhaps there's more in the future. Stay safe and warm, dear friends!
> 
> "Honey, when you kill the lights/ And kiss my eyes/ I feel like a person for a moment of my life..." - Hozier, "To Be Alone"

When Hermione had emerged from the wrecks of the war, battered and bruised and understandably broken, she’d felt a little...adrift, if you would. Sent out to sea without a floatation device, bobbing along the waves - some days the waves were calmer, where others brought a torrential storm and she sought to keep her head afloat. She’d carry on, watching as her friends all boarded boats, and she’d try to let on like she wasn’t drowning. 

She hadn’t imagined then that the person to save her from going completely under would have been Percy Weasley. 

They’d been standing at the sidelines of George’s wedding to a baker from the other end of Diagon Alley, watching all of the other party goers, and she hadn’t realized he’d been studying her before he’d spoken, very matter-of-factly. 

“You aren’t okay, are you?” he’d asked, although it hadn’t been much of a question. 

At such a deliberate statement, Hermione hadn’t been able to laugh or brush off the inquiry, not when he’d remained so steadfast in getting her to speak. 

So they’d left George’s wedding earlier than expected, not that anyone had noticed, and they’d sat at a near forgotten lake near the Burrow, and she’d opened up. It’d been like pulling teeth at first, but eventually she’d been talking about everything that she’d endured for the better part of a year, since the war, and it felt a little like the flood waters had receded. Percy, to his credit, hadn’t been entirely silent either - he’d comment on the situations she would present to him, taking the time to mention how difficult or hard she’d had it, and it hadn’t felt like pity. No, it felt more like she was finally being understood. 

Since then, it felt easier to talk to Percy. She’d forgo awkwardness, and instead pester him to open up as well, to allow her in. He eventually had, slumped across her couch like he belonged there and running through every way he felt he hadn’t measured up to his brothers, how he felt like he was so unlike the rest of his family despite his best efforts. How he felt there was no coming back from his rift he’d caused between him and his family, and he wondered if he even deserved their forgiveness. There, Hermione had pulled him out of his own endless sea, just as he had done for her. 

It hadn’t been shocking to find themselves attracted to one another, after all of that. Hermione liked the way that Percy carried himself, very upright and sturdy, but could melt into a beaming smile the second that she paid him a compliment. In turn, Percy could withstand the heartfelt, angry rants about the injustices of the world and turn around to place a wayward curl behind her ear, and she’d feel her brain come to a screeching halt as she would blush up to her roots. 

The Weasleys, however, had been stunned. Apparently none of them had seen their relationship, which was already well underway by the time it was brought to their attention, coming. There had been questions, and bewildered shouting, and more questions, and surprisingly Charlie and the twins had come to their aid.

“Does it matter that they’re dating?” Charlie had asked tiredly, slumped in his seat with his elbow on the table, looking very much like he’d rather have his head in a hungry dragon’s toothy mouth than spend another second listening to everyone shout.

“I’m unsurprised, honestly,” Fred had scoffed, rearing his chair back to place his heels on the table, which Bill had swiftly knocked back, nearly sending him in the floor before he righted himself with a glare. Percy and the twins’ relationship had improved after the war, as Percy had heard the roar of the tumbling wall before it struck and pulled his younger brother into his chest, and Fred had had the good sense to place a protective spell around the two of them as it came crashing over them both. Fred still walked with a limp when he’d been running ragged most days, and Percy’s shoulders ached whenever it rained, but the two had come out of it looking harried but forged closer. George had been willing to put in more work to strengthen his relationship with Percy, and while the three of them would never see eye to eye, they had a renewed appreciation for one another.

“Yeah, it makes more sense than Hermione and Ron,” George had agreed with a dull shrug, reaching forward for a bowl of green beans as his quiet wife covered her smile with a hand.

There had been more shouting, before eventually everyone had quieted down. Arthur, who had been silent during the entire debacle, had been the first to offer his quiet yet heartfelt congratulations, and Hermione knew that it meant more to Percy than he let on.

However, the two were steadfast in maintaining their relationship at their own pace. By the time his siblings had paired off, married and sired children, Percy had settled on paint colors for the kitchen of their shared flat. They weren’t in any rush, no matter how much the others were keen to rush them, and Hermione adored it. She felt that she could simply be herself around Percy, without fear of judgement or pressure, and that meant something to her.

It seemed that none of them were complaining to having ready babysitters, which brought them to the night of Valentine’s Day itself. While Hermione would have loved to do nothing more than spend the day in bed and reading, her and Percy had found themselves in charge of all of the Weasley children’s children, as no one had wanted to inconvenience Molly and Arthur in order to give the two a well deserved holiday.

Harry had deposited both James and Teddy in their care that very morning, thanked them a million times over, and hurriedly departed to catch an international portkey to meet Ginny in Germany, where she’d had a game the evening prior. Just after breakfast, Ron had dropped off Hugo and hurried off to reunite with Luna. Fred had deposited his and Angelina’s son, Leo, as well as George’s young daughter Rosemary. Eventually, Bill had arrived with both Victoire as well as Dominique, and Charlie had avoided their pleas for assistance entirely, stating that he’d rather be eaten by one of his dragons than be in their situation.

Luckily, Hermione had proven to be adept at fielding the little children and their sticky fingers. It had just snowed the night previous, and so she’d quickly pulled on little mittens and hats and zipped up little coats and marched them out to ruin the pristine blanket of snow that had settled over the barren park next to their apartment building. When Percy had returned from his quick trip to the office to catch up on correspondence, he’d stopped to see his nieces and nephews hurling snowballs and crafting snowmen.

“They’re nightmares, all of them,” he muttered into Hermione’s hair as he bent to place a kiss against her temple, grinning at her halfhearted glare. “I don’t know how you manage them.”

“They’re very easy – I’ll keep them out here for an hour or two more, they’ll get tired, then it’s just lunch, hot chocolate and a movie and they’ll be out until their lovely parents return for them,” she replied easily, grinning back at him as he chuckled.

Percy had regarded the little groups beside her for a moment or two before sighing, passing her his notes for safekeeping and then jumping into the fold, supplying Teddy, James, Hugo and Leo with ready-made snowballs before settling in to quietly help Victoire with her snowman, as Rosemary and Dominique were still far too young to properly assist her.

Hermione watched on with a smile, for as much as she enjoyed moving slowly in her relationship with Percy, she did often envision a future where their own little Weasley was added into the brood of Molly and Arthur’s grandchildren.

Sending his notes to their study with a flick of her wand, Hermione marched over to where her nieces sat, still carefully eyeing the boys to ensure that good fun didn’t turn into hurt feelings. Satisfied, she crouched down to watch Rosemary and Dominique shuffle in the snow before showing them the proper way to make snow angels, which the two seemed to enjoy if their eager squeals and tiny hops were anything to go by.

By the time they’d made their third snow angels, Victoire had abandoned her snowman as well as her uncle and dived into the snowbanks with the younger girls, flailing her arms and legs until Hermione had also shown her how it was done.

Eventually, the boys had wandered over as well, and soon an army of little snow angels was being crafted against the powdery snow.

“They’ll be soaked,” Percy remarked as he stood once again beside her, his arm winding around her to pull her snugly against his side, pressing his head against hers. Had anyone else been listening to Percy, they would’ve thought him to be complaining, which Hermione knew to be the furthest thing from the truth. It was merely an observation, one that followed with, “I’ll go set up a fire in the living room, they’ll be cold once they come in.”

“Alright – I’ll let them get a few more in, then corral them,” she promised, turning her head to smile at him as he nodded, departing from them as he made his way back to their flat.

Eventually, they seemed to tire out on their own, Leo standing to press himself against her legs first, seeking warmth. She promised that they’d go in soon, which he nodded at, before Victoire had taken both Rosemary and Dominique by the hands and tottled them over to stand beside Hermione as well.

“Boys, let’s go in and have lunch, alright?” she said, shaking her head fondly at the chorus of little ‘aww’s from the three boys. Teddy was something of a leader to the others as the oldest, although James was the loudest. Hugo was easy going yet quick to anger, and Leo seemed to be the most active. Victoire was able to hold her own against the boys, although she could be independent when the mood struck her. Rosemary and Dominique were still too young to be included in most things, but the oldest little girl didn’t let that stop her from spending time with them.

When Hermione had successfully shuttled them inside and unzipped coats and pocketed mittens and hats, Percy’s fire had already warmed the majority of the room, which now housed a blanket fort in front of the television. He grinned from the stove as Teddy and James raced off to check it out, Victoire shedding her coat in the floor to hurry to their side. Leo helped peel off wet mittens from Rosemary’s hands, passing them off to Hermione before he did the same to Dominique. Hugo, in resemblance of a tiny explosion, seemed to burst out of his outwear and run towards the fort.

“It’ll keep them in one spot, which is in front of the fire,” Percy said as he sent out plates of food to his siblings’ children with a flick of his wand, stooping to hoist Rosemary and Dominique in his arms. “Ladies – this way to your seats,” he said importantly, Hermione grinning to herself as he carried them to the living room.

“Can we have hot cuckoo later, Aunt Hermimmy?” Leo asked, tugging on her sleeve.

“Yes, we’ll make hot cocoa later, after lunch, alright?” she said with a smile, bending down to unwind his soaking scarf from around his neck, sending him off and into the fort with the others. She smoothed out all of the little clothes against the ancient radiator, setting a drying charm to them as she finally shed her own cold, wet coat and gloves.

“Seems they’re not the only ones soaked to the bone, go get changed while they’re distracted,” Percy said once he returned, already sending her off to their bedroom.

Hermione took the opportunity to change into her flannel pajama bottoms and white Henley, scrunching the sleeves up her elbows before she tied her hair up on top of her head. She regarded her reflection in their bathroom mirror, offering a crooked smile as she appraised her outfit. While most others were donning fancy dresses or smoothing on makeup that evening, here she was in all of her glory.

She shook her head, stepping back into the living room to check on things. Percy was watching over the group, ensuring that everyone ate the entirety of their plates while listening to their idle chatter.

Seeing that they were still distracted, she managed to make it to the kitchen without notice, setting the kettle on and readying an army of mugs. After hunting for the box amongst their cupboards, Hermione pulled free a multitude of hot cocoa packets – perhaps it wasn’t the most authentic or healthy option, but after growing up in a household that banned sweets, Hermione found that her inner child could be indulged.

As she was ripping open the packets and depositing their contents into the mugs, warm arms wound around her middle and a chest met her back.

“Am I funny?” Percy asked, his face pressed into her shoulder.

“Have you been listening to Teddy and James, of all people?” she asked with a light scoff, although she pressed her hand into his hair, idly carding through the loose auburn curls.

“Maybe,” he murmured, although he pulled his face free to rest his chin on her shoulder. “The question remains – am I funny?”

“I find you very funny,” she answered.

“How funny?” he asked.

She furrowed her brows and shot him a curious glance out of the corner of her eye, yet she humored him. “As funny as the twins – ”

“Don’t lie to me,” he snorted, although a smile was tugging at the corner of his mouth when she glanced to him, “They own and operate a joke shop, I’m not near as funny as them nor would I ever be.”

She hummed, mulling it over as she continued to prepare the mugs of hot chocolate, standing on her toes to reach for the marshmallows from the cupboard before Percy grabbed them for her. “You’re funnier than Ron,” she deliberated.

“That’s good,” he muttered as he passed the marshmallows into her grasp, quick to return his arms around her. “Ron’s pretty funny.”

“You’re funnier than Bill,” she insisted.

“You just don’t like Bill,” he snorted.

“He tried to make a joke about our ‘intimacy issues’ – no, I’m not overly fond of Bill right now,” she huffed, remembering the conversation a week prior and how she’d stared blankly at the eldest Weasley, who’d belatedly realized that such a joke was not appreciated. He’d yet to apologize, and Hermione was still busy giving him the cold shoulder.

“There are no such issues as far as I’m aware, so I’m unbothered. Am I funnier than Charlie?” he asked, returning to more important matters.

Hermione hummed, tapping a spoon to her mouth before shooting him a cheeky grin, “Charlie  _ is _ pretty funny.” He glared at her, affronted, before he snorted at her laughter. “Yes, I think you’re funnier than Charlie,” she said, although she pressed a messy, ill-placed kiss against his cheek.

“Ginny, then?” he asked, returning to press his mouth against her shoulder, watching her work to prepare the drinks for the tiny crowd they’d been set in charge of.

“I think you’re as funny as Ginny,” she decided, turning to grab the kettle before it could even begin to screech – she didn’t want to give them boiling water by any means, as she knew that they wouldn’t wait to consume their drinks.

“That’s nice,” he hummed, pulling away to let her do so before pressing himself against her again, this time gently setting his chin against the side of her neck, “Ginny’s about as funny as the twins.”

Hermione shook her head as she poured warm water into the mugs, taking the moment to press her hand against Percy’s arms, still holding her steadfast against him. She knew that he still had moments of insecurity about his place in his family, and the brutally honest chatter of the children sometimes got to him.

“If it’s any consolation,” she whispered, waiting for his quiet hum against her ear to continue, “You’re my favorite.”

Percy huffed a laugh, sending one of her curls flying, though he was quick to tuck it into place behind her ear as he pressed a soft kiss against her jaw.

“You’re mine as well,” he murmured, smiling when she blushed. He pulled away, headed for the fridge, the insecurity gone from his face and the tenseness faded from his shoulders.

“Alright – who wants marshmallows and who wants whipped cream?” Hermione asked, sending the patter of little feet racing into the kitchen.

“Can I get both?” Teddy asked, his hair morphing into brunette curls as he stared up at her.

Hermione, catching on quick to the tactic, frowned down at him. “One or the other, and you know that.”

Teddy pouted, his hair shuddering to the teal he’d had it at previously, and said, “Can I have a  _ lot _ of marshmallows, then?”

“As many as I can fit,” she promised, smiling at his beaming grin as she dropped a handful and passed it off to him. “Careful,” she warned, watching him slowly walk back to the blanket fort before turning to James. “And you?”

“Marshmallows – a whole  _ bunch _ ,” he insisted, grinning widely as she did so and passed him the mug.

Leo stepped up next, reaching for the mug as she passed it off to him. “Whip cream?” he asked, scanning the counter for the item before looking up at her in confusion.

“Go over to your Uncle Percy, then,” she directed, smiling when Leo did so, offering his mug to Percy and growing delighted when he left with a large mound of it towering over the lip of his cup. Once he reunited with Teddy and James, they could hear their complaints. She shot a look to Percy, who ignored her with a small smile.

“If I get two marshmallows, can I get whip cream too?” Victoire asked.

Hermione mulled it over before nodding, placing four in her cup and sending her off to Percy.

“Me too!” Hugo shouted, though Hermione was quick to shush him with a grin, knowing that he would feel important for keeping a secret, however truly unimportant, for her.

Once Hugo was situated, Rosemary and Dominique received their small cups before holding them up to Percy, who took great care in pressing the nozzle on the can and filling the cups with a flourish. Once they’d walked off with haltingly careful steps, he looked to Hermione and sprayed a decent amount into his own mouth with a crooked smile.

Somehow, without his family’s notice, Percy had cultivated a cheeky, charming personality that either left Hermione in stitches or in a blushing mess. How he’d managed to do so, when everyone thought him to be boring, she’d never know, but she would continue to appreciate it.

Hermione fought off a grin, attempting to look reproachful but failing, instead sidling up next to him and presenting her own mug. “Whipped cream, please,” she said with a smile.

“Ah, I’m afraid I’m all done with free kind gestures today,” he said, although he was leaning towards her, slipping an arm around her carefully. “It’ll cost you.”

Hermione stood on her toes, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, making a small noise of surprise when he tipped his chin and kissed her firmly. He pulled away with a warm grin, the skin around his eyes crinkling behind his glasses, and she felt her heart skip a bit.

“There you go, then,” he said once he’d placed the whipped cream atop her own mug of hot chocolate, sliding his arm from her person as he moved to where the marshmallows still sat upon the counter. “What do we say to Aunt Hermione for making hot chocolate?” he called from the kitchen as she moved to the living room.

“Thank you, Aunt Hermione!” came a chorus that garbled her name, and Hermione grinned as she sat at her favorite armchair, looking in at all of them sitting snugly inside the blanket fort.

There were several of the blankets from the hall closet strewn over their little heads, held aloft by charms no doubt. The couch cushions had been pulled from their seats, sitting in place in the floor and pinning the corners down, every pillow in the flat having been sacrificed. It was a blanket fort of her childhood dreams, and it seemed that the children truly appreciated it.

“What are we talking about?” Hermione asked, as she’d come up to their faint whispers.

“What each of the aunts and uncles are best at,” Victoire answered.

Hermione faltered, catching sight of Percy’s wince as he neared, but he shook his head and continued to perch on the arm of her chair, sipping from his own mug.

“Uncle Fred and Uncle George are the most fun,” Teddy declared importantly, each little head nodding in agreement.

“My daddy has the longest hair, and my mummy is the prettiest,” Victoire insisted, a sparkle of pride in her eye, even though Percy snorted softly into his mug, amused at her statement.

“Uncle Charlie is the coolest!” Hugo announced, his tiny fists rising overhead, “He plays with  _ dragons. _ ”

“Uncle Harry, Uncle Ron and Aunt Ginny are the most famous,” Leo decided, picking at his sweater for loose threads.

“Do you know what it means to be famous?” Hermione asked with a bewildered blink.

“No,” they chorused, so Hermione let it slide for another day.

“Aunt Luna has the best stories,” Teddy said, shifting and wiggling deeper into the pillows of the fort before loudly slurping at his drink, much to the disgust of Victoire if her little nose wrinkle was anything to go by.

“Aunt Angelina is the best singer,” James said. “And Aunt Millie makes the  _ best  _ cookies  _ ever _ .”

“I would hope so,” Percy said with a grin, pressing a hand to Hermione’s back. “What about your Aunt Hermione?”

“Aunt Hermione’s the smartest,” Leo said simply, and Hermione shrugged with a smile. “You know  _ lots _ .”

“I try,” she said, grinning at Percy’s strange look before he scoffed, rolling his eyes at her.

“We’re having trouble deciding on Uncle Percy,” Teddy said, although he was looking to Hermione as he said it. “We’re not sure what he’s best at.”

“Paperwork,” Percy muttered bitterly, although Hermione shot him a quick glance before pressing a light touch to his knee.

“Well, what have we been thinking of?” Hermione asked diplomatically, yet she knew that Percy was preparing to be crushed by the opinions of his nieces and nephews.

The eldest ones all looked to each other before looking back to Hermione, as it seemed that her input was more important than the man they were actually speaking about. They waved her to come closer, so Hermione placed her drink in the care of Percy and moved down and into the fort amongst them, where they crowded around her.

“He makes the best shadow puppets,” Victoire whispered, although the whispers of little children were often done at the wrong volume, so Hermione was sure that Percy had heard.

“Oh?” Hermione whispered back, matching her volume, yet she glanced to her boyfriend out of the corner of her eye to see him sitting in the chair, bewildered.

“I say that he makes the best eggy toast,” Hugo argued, at the same unmanaged volume that Victoire had set in place. “The yellow bit is always soft but never runny.”

“Best  _ tea _ , Hugo,” James stressed, the two glaring at each other in miniature imitations of their fathers. Hermione pressed a hand to her mouth, fighting off the laughter. “It always tastes good if Uncle Percy makes it.”

“I think Uncle Percy is the kindest,” Leo said smartly, and the tiny group paused before looking to him for elaboration. “He’s good at all the other stuff because he’s kind,” he insisted, and it seemed that he’d won his case.

Hermione turned completely to look at Percy, who’d set their mugs and his glasses aside and had buried his head in his hands, staring at them all with an unreadable expression upon his face. She softened, giving him a reassuring smile before turning back to the children.

“I think you’re absolutely right, Leo,” she whispered, smiling when the little boy beamed.

“Alright!” Teddy announced loudly, changing the volume as they each turned to view their uncle with eager little grins. “Uncle Percy, we’ve decided that you’re the kindest.”

Percy straightened himself, donning a quick smile as he cleared his throat, and said “It’s an honor” with no small amount of emotion.

Quick to distract the children, Hermione had retrieved empty mugs to send to the kitchen, popping in a movie before she gathered both Dominique and Rosemary into her arms to set them in her and Percy’s bed for a nap. By the time she’d tucked them both in with charms to keep them from rolling off, the group inside the fort huddled against each other and watching the screen with heavy lids.

She found Percy in the kitchen, swiping at his eyes as he stood over the sink.

“It’s a silly thing to get teary eyed over,” he said in a hush as he placed his glasses back on his face.

“It isn’t,” she disagreed, stepping into his arms and pressing her face into his chest, feeling him press a kiss to the top of her head. “I think you’re all of that and more, you know.”

“Bill’s hair is longer, I’m afraid,” Percy said, although he pulled away slightly to smile down at her. “And I’m loathe to grow out my hair – it’d be a right mop, don’t you think?”

Hermione grinned, winding her arms around him and setting her chin against his chest. “I don’t know – I think you’d look rather dashing.”

“You’re too kind,” he snorted, although he placed another kiss against her forehead before replacing his lips with his own forehead, his glasses bumping clumsily against her nose before he shifted, and they settled. Although he wasn’t vocalizing it, Hermione could tell that some big revelation had just hit him, likely to do with how the children viewed him against his own family. “I’m alright, I just…need a minute,” he murmured, and Hermione was content to let him process for however long he needed, dragging her hands up and down his spine languidly.

Eventually, he dragged himself away from her, smiling softly as he ran his hands through his hair before donning a forlorn expression. “I’m sorry this day isn’t going very well – stuck babysitting with an overly emotional other.”

At this, Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes at him as she turned to set the dishes to clean themselves. “You’re hardly over emotional, Percy, for Merlin’s sake – “

“Still, haven’t even gotten you flowers,” he huffed, leaning against the counter as she wiped down the countertops and replaced the marshmallows back in the cupboard. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“I don’t care enough about Valentine’s Day, but thank you,” she said, smiling even when he shot her a distrustful look. “You get me flowers often enough that their absence on today isn’t missed,” she explained, shrugging as she went about tidying the space as quietly as she could. “I’m not enough of a sweets person to appreciate a wide variety of chocolate, and I’d loathe to go out on a day as busy as today.”

“You don’t wear much jewelry, either,” he commented idly, although he was smiling like he was in on a joke that she hadn’t heard before. On anyone else, it would’ve infuriated her – with Percy, she knew she’d be in on the joke soon enough.

“As for babysitting, you know I love those little nightmares,” she said with a grin, “I do think it’s rather presumptuous for everyone to drop their offspring off with us, but I hardly mind too much to complain.”

“Yes, well, they’re on their own to find proper babysitters next time,” he said with a disbelieving huff and shake of his head. “The nerve of them – Charlie had the right idea. No contact and out of the country.”

“Want to do that next year, then?” she asked with a quiet laugh as he seemed to consider it.

“How does Italy sound?” he asked, and the moment he’d said it she was already thinking about the different museums and exhibits that were stored there. He must have noticed the look on her face and nodded, “I’ll set aside proper time off for next year, then, before anyone else can think to do it.”

Hermione said nothing, but instead arched on her toes to press another kiss against his lips, smiling when he dipped lower to meet her properly.

The children had all drifted off to sleep, and Hermione had assumed her position of the guard in her armchair, reading idly as the sounds of the movie quietly played on the television beside her. Percy had exited to the study to work while it was quiet, so she hadn’t noticed how late it was getting until Ron stepped through the Floo first.

“How was he?” he asked quietly, tiptoeing around to peek inside the fort and grinning at all of them tucked in together.

“He was great, as always,” she said, standing to summon Hugo’s now-dry outerwear and passing them off to Ron. Percy exited from the study and gave a quiet nod of greeting to his younger brother. Ron stooped to peel Hugo from the pile, wincing as he gave quiet, tiny grumbles before he was settled against his father’s chest, his bright red hair matching the exact shade of Ron’s.

Ron left with a quiet goodbye, and not a moment later George arrived with lipstick on his collar.

“Evening,” he whispered quietly and with a cheeky grin, to which Percy snorted as he came around to Hermione’s other side. “Came to collect both of them,” he said, moving down the hall once Hermione had pointed where his daughter lay.

“I’ll grab their things,” Percy whispered, leaving her side as she reclaimed her armchair. By the time George returned with a slumbering Rosemary, Percy had passed off both of her and Leo’s belongings. Expertly, George bent and grabbed at his nephew with one arm to hoist him up and onto his hip, nodding to both Hermione and Percy as the two children slumbered against his chest, exiting the way he’d came.

Harry was next, grimacing as he trudged in from the door, vanishing the snow from his boots as Ginny slipped in beside him.

“Sorry,” he whispered, sneaking his way through the kitchen and around to the living room, Ginny swiping Teddy and James’s things from the radiator before tugging off her heels to quietly pad through the space.

“We beat them by a landslide,” Ginny hissed excitedly, beaming as she neared her friend and brother.

“Why were you in Germany again?” Percy asked as he lifted his arm and accepted a quick hug from his younger sister.

“Charity game – and we  _ crushed  _ them,” she answered.

“As one does, for charity,” he stated primly, and Hermione pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.

“Nice fort,” Harry whispered with appreciation, tipping his head towards it, “You make that, Hermione?”

“Percy did, actually,” she said, smiling when Harry only nodded and set to peeling his own boys from Victoire’s steady grasp.

“You need to teach Harry – he used dining chairs and an umbrella,” Ginny said, snorting fondly, “It fell down on top of him before the boys could even get to it.”

“I was raised  _ Muggle _ , and by the  _ Dursleys _ ,” Harry hissed, adjusting Teddy’s hold around his neck carefully as he surfaced to glare at his wife. “I didn’t  _ have _ experience building blanket forts.”

“You always made the better blanket forts out of all of us, actually,” Ginny mused, Percy blinking at her in surprise. “Bill made them too wide, and Charlie always crammed as many things in there as he could.”

“Is that why you and Ron would badger me to make them?” he asked, ruffling up his hair, “I always thought you two just wanted to get on my nerves.”

“That too,” she said with a quiet laugh, stepping forward to grab James and pull him to her chest. “Thanks you two – we owe you.”

“We’ve already decided we’re off to Italy next year, so your discretion would be appreciated,” Hermione whispered, grinning when Harry and Ginny both laughed before heading through the Floo.

All that was left was Victoire and Dominique, and Hermione got the little girl from their bed to join her sister in the fort, smiling as the two curled around each other in their sleep. Just as they’d settled in, the Floo roared once more.

“Aww, look at zem,” Fleur whispered, pressing a hand to her heart as Bill followed behind her. “Such angels.”

“They never get along unless they’re around you two,” Bill snorted, shaking his head as he looked upon his daughters fondly.

“We wanted to give you two something, to show our appreciation,” Fleur stated, rifling through her ridiculously tiny purse. “And William had something to say –  _ don’t _ you?”

Hermione watched in amusement as Bill tensed, wincing at the tone of his wife’s voice before his gaze slid over to Hermione, who wiped any trace of laughter from her face and instead arched her brows.

“Err – sorry, about what I said last week,” he said, flushing brightly, “I was trying to be funny, and it wasn’t, so – ”

“Apology accepted,” Hermione spared him, rolling her eyes as he seemed to relax.

“Ah, yes – zere,” Fleur said, passing something off to Percy, who regarded it with confusion. Hermione looked over his shoulder at two tickets to – something. The print was tiny, and the room was only lit from the light of the dwindling fire and that from the kitchen. “To the symphony – ma grandmere et grandpere went often.”

“Thank you, Fleur, we appreciate you thinking of us,” Percy said kindly, setting the tickets on the small table by the chair.

“Alright, you two,” Bill said, scooping Victoire and Dominique up and into his arms, jostling them horribly although they slept soundly on. “Thanks again, guys.”

Percy nodded, smiling as Bill and Fleur exited through the Floo, and was quiet for only a moment or two before turning to Hermione. “Have they gotten all of them? Everyone accounted for?”

Hermione snorted, stretching out the kinks in her back as Percy moved to put the tickets in a safe place, where they wouldn’t be forgotten or lost. She regarded the fort, loathing to take it down when it’d been enjoyed by so many in its short existence. Before she could think better of it, she dipped down and climbed in, staring up to find that there were a few dim lights that she’d not noticed earlier, floating dizzily against the arch of the blankets, reminiscent of fireflies.

“What are you doing?” Percy asked in amusement, coming around to crouch and see her better.

“You really do make good forts,” she said instead, grinning from ear to ear as he snorted, yet climbed in beside her. She shifted, allowing him ample room, yet he remained pressed against her, his arm propping up his head as he lay on his side and looked down at her with a fond smile.

Hermione found herself smiling back, reaching up to grab his shoulder and gently press him closer, until she could wind her arms around his neck and press careful kisses against his lips. Percy seemed to exhale, and whatever tension had found its place in his shoulders dissipated in an instant.

“I love you,” she hummed, grinning when he pressed an eager kiss to her mouth.

“I love you, too,” he murmured, smiling lazily when she reached to push his glasses off of his face, setting them on the other side of her. He settled down beside her, pressing his face into her hair as she placed her head against his chest, much like how they slept at night.

They’d said nothing more, as they each drifted off to sleep.

Whatever analogy she came up with didn’t always seem to fit whenever it concerned the two of them. In her sea-drifting one, Percy had given her a life raft as well as an anchor – something that grounded her but didn’t sink her. And yet, he never kept her head out of the clouds or her feet firmly on the ground.

When it came to Percy, the best comparison was this: he was a warm fire, hot drink and good book after a harsh winter’s day. He could comfort and interest her like nobody else, and she felt that she was rather the same for him. With Percy, she had a safe place and someone to care about her. As far as she was concerned, she was always at home if she was with him. Whether they moved at a snail’s pace or not didn’t matter to her, as she felt that they were always going to be just like this.

The next year, Charlie was left with all of his nieces and nephews, and had been glaring at the Floo when Hermione and Percy had entered the Burrow the Sunday after their holiday.

“You better have gotten me a good souvenir, Perce,” Charlie grumbled as Percy dusted off his sleeves.

“I brought you a future sister-in-law,” he said good-naturedly, Hermione blushing beside him.

“I already have so many of those,” he groaned, but was quick to stand and properly congratulate them regardless.

The Burrow was filled with shouts and questions over Percy and Hermione’s relationship once more, but Hermione found that she didn’t really mind this time around. 

  
  



End file.
